


Legerdemain

by miss_whimsy



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_whimsy/pseuds/miss_whimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel has very beautiful hands. It's kind of ruining Dylan's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legerdemain

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a huge thank you to [skywardsmiles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skywardsmiles) for kicking this into shape and keeping me going. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> A couple of the tricks used were borrowed from the incredible Dynamo, who you should look up if you don't know, because he's an amazing magician.
> 
> I'm bambiesque on Tumblr if you ever want to flail with me about these idiots.

**Act One**

It started with cards.

At least Dylan thought that's where it started. Maybe it was earlier. Maybe it was in Macau, or maybe it was in that damn interrogation room, or maybe it was years before that. All he knew for sure was that one day J. Daniel Atlas picked up a deck of cards and completely ruined Dylan's life.

 

_London, January 2016_

It was nine days into the new year and Dylan had barely left the library. The house they’d been given, at the end of Fingal Street, was only a ten minute drive away, but even that felt like too far when there was so much to learn; more often than not he fell asleep where he sat and woke up with a stiff neck. The others divided their time between exploring the city and working with Dylan; he was much better at shooing them out to eat and sleep and enjoy their lives than he was at following his own advice.

Today it was raining, which was rather par for the course with London, and Dylan had again spent most of it locked away by himself. He finished the book he’d been reading just as the clock chimed five, so he stood and stretched, thinking he’d try and find something to eat before picking up another one. 

His cell phone started to buzz against the table.

“Lula?”

“Hey. Are you finished with that book now?”

Dylan frowned slightly at said book. “Yes.”

“Great, then meet us outside.”

“Why?”

“We’re kidnapping you?”

Dylan smiled but picked up his jacket and headed outside. “How is this kidnapping me?”

The car pulled up in front of him almost as soon as he stepped out of the building and Lula pushed open the back door, waving. “We were prepared to carry you out.”

Nodding, amused, Dylan climbed into the backseat next to Lula and Jack. Merritt was driving and Daniel was in the passenger seat, scowling at his phone.

“Problem?” Dylan asked Lula.

“He’s just upset because we said it would be pointless sending him inside to get you, because he’d be more likely to pick up a book himself and join you.”

“So we told him he could pick where we eat,” Merritt added.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Jack said.

“I would just like to make it very, very clear that I hate you all right now,” Daniel told them. “Not you, Dylan.”

“Well, thank you,” Dylan said. “So where are we eating?

They ended up in a small Italian restaurant nearby, which made Jack apologize to Daniel and made Daniel punch Jack’s arm in return.

“You’re sleeping in an actual bed tonight,” Lula told Dylan later, while they were waiting for their dessert. “No more sleeping in the library. It’s not good for you.”

“Unless we’re allowed to sleep there too now,” Danny suggested, sounding so hopeful that it made Dylan laugh.

“I will sleep in my bed from now on, I promise,” Dylan assured them all. “My back hates me enough as it is.”

 

When they got back to the house it was too late to start working on anything, but too early to go to sleep, which was how they all ended up sprawled around the coffee table in the living room, sharing the last three beers in the fridge between the five of them.

Jack and Lula sat with their backs against the couch that Daniel was stretched out on. Merritt sat in the armchair on Jack's right, while Dylan was in the one on Lula's left. 

"It was Jack's turn to go shopping," Merritt pointed out, handing his bottle over to Daniel. "So Jack should get less."

"That's fair," Daniel agreed, and then booed with the others when Lula passed Jack her bottle.

"Are we watching a movie or not?" Jack asked, grabbing the remote from the table. "If you don't choose something, I'll do it."

Dylan was content to let them argue amongst themselves, taking occasional sips from the bottle he was unfairly hogging. For the first time he could remember, he felt completely at ease.

Which in retrospect should have been a giant flashing warning sign that something was about to go spectacularly wrong.

"Hey, Jack," Danny murmured just as the movie started to play. "Could you pass me my cards?" He pointed to a deck of playing cards on the bottom shelf of the coffee table, which Jack immediately handed over.

Afterwards, Dylan couldn’t say what movie they watched or whether the others enjoyed it; he didn’t know that Jack had fallen asleep thirty minutes in and Merritt had been so busy trying to throw something into his open mouth, that Lula had finished both of the other two bottles of beer herself.

He could, however, have named every cut and spring and display that Daniel had practised that night.

 

It was just appreciation of the art, Dylan thought, and he reminded himself of the fact over and over for the next two days. Cardistry was a special skill. It was beautiful. Of course he’d been entranced. It had been late and he’d been tired and it was soothing to watch Danny’s hands. The cards in Danny’s hands. Appreciation of the art.

On the third day Dylan sat down to watch Jack practice, fully expecting to get lost in the mastery he had over the cards. 

It didn’t happen.

And it wasn’t that Jack wasn’t bringing his A game; there was just something missing. 

“Are you okay, dude?” Jack asked, somewhere around the thirty minute mark. “You look like you’re stressing over something.”

“I’m fine,” Dylan said, forcing a smile. It wasn’t Jack’s fault after all, that he didn’t have Daniel’s hands. That would be weird. “Sorry. I’ll leave you to it.”

Dylan felt Jack’s frown following him as he hurried out of the room and straight into —

“Oh, careful there,” Daniel said with a laugh when Dylan barreled into him. “Hey, are you okay? You look kind of… sweaty. Are you sick?”

Dylan was entirely too conscious of Daniel’s hands on his arms, holding him still and steady. 

“Dylan?” 

“I’m fine,” Dylan told him. “Everything’s fine. It’s hot. Don’t you think it’s hot?”

Daniel didn’t let go of Dylan, but he did glance towards the nearest window. “I think it’s snowing.” 

“Maybe I’ll go for a walk then,” Dylan said, finally stepping away. “Clear my head.”

And with that he made his escape, with Daniel watching him the whole time, looking confused.

 

So, Dylan had a thing for Daniel’s hands. Unexpected, but not the end of the world. They were just hands. He would get over it. It didn’t mean anything. 

For the next two weeks he watched the card tricks and the sleight of hand while they were practicing. He watched the way Daniel’s hands fluttered and gestured as he talked. Sometimes he’d zone out of the conversation completely, focused as he was on those long, slender fingers.

Danny had a habit of spinning things with his fingers. Coins. Teaspoons. Dylan had caught himself staring more than once as a pencil had spun and weaved its way around Danny’s hand.

One morning, near the end of the month, Daniel was doing a crossword at the breakfast table, so it was a pen that was twirling in his hand while he worked out the clues, since he refused to put an answer down if he wasn’t one hundred percent certain about it. 

“9 Down. Seduce a backward colleague. Not right.”

Dylan was watching the pen, the way he’d been watching anything Danny had picked up in the last month, so he saw the moment it touched Danny’s bottom lip, and he was instantly, painfully, hard.

“Tempt,” Lula offered, blissfully unaware of Dylan’s predicament.

“Six letters,” Danny said, shaking his head.

“Allure,” Merritt suggested, pouring himself a third cup of coffee.

“Entice,” Jack tried and then shrugged when Danny continued to shake his head.

“What do those have to do with a backward colleague?” Daniel sucked on the end of the pen for a full minute and then began spinning it around his fingers again. Looking directly at Dylan he smiled hopefully. 

“Come on, boss. Help me out.”

Merritt chose that moment to choke on his coffee, and while everyone’s attention went to him, Dylan managed to slip away so he wouldn’t embarrass himself. He didn’t, however, miss the look of concern on Daniel’s face when he glanced back from the doorway and met Danny’s eyes.

“Entrap,” he said. “It’s not quite partner backwards.”

He needed to get a grip.

 

_London, February 2016_

It was Valentine's Day and Lula had decided to treat Jack to a romantic dinner, which meant she'd asked Daniel to cook so that their romantic meal wouldn't consist of grilled cheese sandwiches and store-bought cookies.

The others had all agreed to clear out as soon as the food was ready, but until then Dylan and Merritt were keeping Danny company in the kitchen, where Merritt was checking movie times to find something to keep them occupied for a few hours and Dylan was pretending to read while he watched Danny cook.

"There are no good movies," Merritt announced with a sigh.

"We could do something else," Daniel said. "What about bowling?"

"No," Merritt said immediately. "No bowling. Not again."

"No bowling allowed, Daniel," Jack shouted from the next room. "You know the rules."

"Why no bowling?" Dylan asked, looking from Daniel to Merritt and then back again.

"We went once," Merritt told him. "It was supposed to be a bonding experience. It didn't go so well."

"The machine kept breaking," Danny snapped, using a tone that suggested he'd had this argument a dozen times. "It wasn't my fault."

"You made Jack cry," Merritt said and winked at Dylan. "Henley slapped him."

"Deservedly!" Jack shouted.

"No, no, no, it was not deserved," Daniel protested. "I apologized to Jack. Henley was upset because she'd asked for a pair of shoes a size too small because she didn't want the guy at the counter to think she had big feet."

Merritt started to laugh. "You are ridiculous. It's been two years. Just admit that you were an asshole."

"It was the machine," Daniel told Dylan. "You believe me don't you?"

Dylan met Daniel's eyes and found himself nodding slightly.

"Unbelievable," Merritt muttered. "I'm going to set the table for Lula and then I am going to find a bar to watch whatever passes for sport in this country. See you guys later."

A smile flashed across Daniel's face and then was gone as he went back to chopping vegetables.

A comfortable silence fell between them. Dylan could hear the others talking next door an indistinct mumble of voices. They sounded happy. Dylan smiled to himself.

''Try this.”

Dylan glanced up to find Danny holding out a beautiful, if tiny, piece of food to him.

“What it it?”

“It's an amuse-bouche.”

“But what is it?” 

“Black radish, with smoked salmon and fromage frais.”

Dylan nodded and reached for it. Danny pulled it away.

“No. Your hands are dirty.”

“How?” Dylan asked, looking down at his hands. “I'm just reading a book.”

“An old book,” Danny said. “I don't want old book smell and dirt spoiling my food.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “You're a freak. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Many times,” Danny said. “Now close your eyes and open your mouth.”

Dylan did as be asked, hoping his face didn't turn as red as it felt.

He felt Danny’s thumb against his lip and then a burst of flavor as the radish hit his tongue. He hummed happily, savoring the taste and automatically licked his bottom lip, catching Danny's thumb again as he did so. 

His eyes shot open just as Daniel pulled his hand back and sucked some fromage frais from his thumb. 

"Sorry,” he said and he sounded embarrassed. “You had some on your lip.” He cleared his throat and straightened. “How was it?” 

Dylan could feel his heart beating a little faster, his breath coming a little quicker. 

"It was good,” Dylan assured him, but his voice was hoarse. “It was really great, Danny.”

There was a quick flash of a smile again and Dylan knew he was completely fucked.

"Thanks,” Danny murmured. “I'm almost done. Then we can do something. If you still want to. It doesn't have to be bowling.”

 

They ended up walking down to the river. The temperature was close to freezing and most people seemed to have opted to spend their romantic Sunday evening at home, rather than brave the cold.

“I still cannot believe you didn’t tell us who you were,” Daniel said, his breath billowing out, mingling with Dylan’s as they shivered their way towards the university. “For a whole year you let me talk like you knew nothing, while the whole time you were the son of my hero.”

“Yeah well,” Dylan said with a shrug, “those are pretty big shoes to step into. I wanted all of you to respect me, not this vision you have of my dad. I spent so long making all of this happen. I don’t even know if I know who the real me is.”

“I do,” Danny said immediately. “I know who you are.”

“Oh really?” Dylan laughed. “So who am I?”

“You’re a Horseman. You’re our leader. You’re smart and strong and very brave.”

“I don’t know how brave I am,” Dylan argued and was summarily shushed. 

“You came back for me,” Danny said. “They didn’t want me. They’d have beat the shit out of me and left me for dead. You didn’t have to come back.”

“Yes, I did,” Dylan told him, and stopped walking. He grabbed Danny’s arm, turning him so they were facing each other. “You have to stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But—”

“It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault,” Dylan said, firmer. “Say it.”

Daniel looked away. “No. No, I can’t say it. I can’t, because it isn’t true. The whole thing was my fault.”

Dylan smiled slightly, shaking his head. “You know me, huh? Well I know you, Danny, better than you think I do. You think I don’t know how hard this last year was for you? I knew. I knew before Henley left and then I let her go, and I knew that was going to make it worse and I didn’t do anything to stop it because I’m not used to this. Being a team. I’m not a team guy. I’m a planned-revenge-for-thirty-years guy. That guy is crazy. I don’t like that guy.”

“You let her go?” Danny asked, so quietly Dylan almost missed it. 

“That’s the bit you want to talk about now?”

Danny shook his head. “No. No. Just filing it away.”

“My point,” Dylan continued, “is that I’m used to planning things and then you guys doing what you’re told. And I knew that that wasn’t going to be enough for you — for any of you — but instead of listening to you I shut you out. Of course you were going to go behind my back.”

“I don’t like being that person either, Dylan.”

“I know. But I don’t blame you, Danny. I don’t blame you for any of it. And even if you only whisper it to yourself before you fall asleep at night, I want you to remind yourself every day that I don’t blame you. That I’m not angry at you. You came back for me too.”

Daniel turned his head, staring at the lights of the city across the river, until Dylan placed his hand at the small of Danny’s back and gently guided him away.

 

_Marseille, March 2016_

March found them all in Marseille and while the warmer weather was a welcome change, the tiny hotel room only had two large brass beds and an uncomfortable looking sofa.

“Lula and I will take this one,” Jack said, throwing his bag on the bed closest to the window. 

Danny looked at Merritt who seemed to roll his eyes before moving to the sofa. “You’re paying for my chiropractor, Daniel.”

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Dylan said. “I don’t sleep much anyway. Merritt, really. Share with Danny.”

Their job was two days away, so they’d agreed to get an early night before going over the plans again in detail the next day.

“Are you sure you don’t want the bed, Dylan?” Merritt asked when Danny disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door with a little extra force than was strictly necessary. The shower started up seconds later.

“Of course,” Dylan said. He couldn’t imagine that sleeping next to Daniel would help his predicament.

Merritt tried to argue again, but was interrupted by Dylan’s cell phone.

“One second,” Dylan said and answered the phone without looking at the number. “Hello?

“Bonsoir, Dylan.”

“Alma?”

“You’re in Marseille.”

“And where are you?” Dylan asked, stepping away from Merritt as though the room was big enough for that to stop him overhearing.

“Actually, I am also in Marseille, so you can buy me dinner. Hippopotamus. Thirty minutes.”

The line went dead and Dylan laughed slightly as he pocketed his phone. “Well, now I have to go out. I won’t be back late.”

Merritt, Jack and Lula all glared at him. 

“What? She’s nice. We can trust her. And I kind of owe her.” The glares didn’t disappear. Dylan sighed. “Eat. Sleep. I’ll see you later.” 

And with that, he went to find Hippopotamus.

 

He hadn’t even made it to the end of the street before he realized they were following him. He made a mental note to point out that they were getting sloppy, then led them five blocks in the wrong direction and then round in a circle before they gave up.

Alma was waiting at a table on the terrace when Dylan found her and she gave a little wave upon seeing him. He kissed her cheeks and then picked up her glass of wine and drained it as he slumped into the seat opposite her.

“I’m sorry,” he told her as she raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “That was so rude. Please forgive me.”

“You’re lucky I remember how awful your manners are,” Alma told him. “And that I didn’t have high expectations for them this time. Please tell me that the idea of eating with me isn’t so bad you can’t make it through sober.”

“Of course not,” Dylan said with a smile, as he stopped a waiter and ordered a bottle of wine. “My treat.”

“I should think so.”

“They followed me from the hotel,” Dylan sighed. “I’m sorry. I think I lost them, but you never know. They’re tricky.”

Alma tried and failed to smother a smile. “Your protégés? 

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little pleased.”

Alma laughed. “I’ve never seen you like this. Before you were so angry, so serious. You had me completely fooled. It’s nice to see you as the proud patriarch of your little magical family.”

“Don’t mock me,” Dylan shot back, smiling in spite of himself. “Acting as Dumbledore to Harry Potter and friends is my punishment for setting it all up in the first place.”

“You love it,” Alma said, tapping his shin with her foot. “Admit it. You’d be lost without them.”

Dylan shrugged. “It’s certainly less lonely.”

“I saw your show. At New Year.”

“Did it cause you problems?” Dylan asked, truly concerned. He’d never meant to make things difficult for Alma. She had been an unexpected and thoroughly wonderful addition to his plans and she had kept her word ever since, never giving away his secret. 

“I was questioned,” Alma said. “I told them I didn’t know anything. It worked in my favor that you hadn’t spoken to me in six months.”

Dylan winced. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Good,” Alma said. “Don’t do it again.”

 

Dylan finally relaxed enough to enjoy the meal around the time their appetizers arrived. If the others were watching, it wasn't from anywhere nearby or else their ability to blend in had vastly improved. 

Neither of them mentioned why they were in Marseille, but Alma assured him that she wasn’t there for him.

“Just a happy coincidence,” she said, taking a sip of her wine.

The food was good and the company even better. Dylan had almost forgotten how nice it was to spend time with Alma; how animated she was when was excited about something. So he told her as much as he felt comfortable telling her, about The Eye.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why did Henley leave?”

Dylan swirled the stem of his glass, watching the wine move as his mind drifted away of its own accord.

“She wasn’t happy. I could have stopped her. I mean, I could have given her what she wanted.” Dylan shrugged and looked back up to meet her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m an asshole?” Dylan offered. “I don’t know. They needed more time. They needed more discipline. They still do.”

“The forum thinks it was about Daniel.”

Dylan grinned. “You read the forum?”

“That is not the point.”

“Even I don’t read the forum,” Dylan told her, laughing. 

“They’re your fans.”

“I know. That’s why it’s terrifying.” He took another sip of wine. “Danny reads the forum. And he comments, even though I have begged him not to.”

Alma waited expectantly until Dylan realized he wasn’t going to get away with not answering.

"I don't know what happened between them. It's not my business. Or yours.”

She shrugged one shoulder and smiled. “You can't blame me for being curious. Everyone has a theory.”

"Even you?”

"Oh, especially me.”

“Are you going to share it?” Dylan asked, amused.

"No," she said and finished her glass of wine. ''What are you getting for dessert?”

 

They took the long route back to Alma’s hotel when they were done, walking around the harbor slowly, her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow. 

“Are you afraid?” she asked eventually, in the middle of a story he’d been telling about Danny and Merritt and an unfortunate taxi driver in Chicago.

"Afraid of what?" he asked, suddenly confused.

"Being in love.”

“Excuse me? How did love come into this? Is this a French thing? Sharing our feelings. Because you may have noticed, I don't do that.”

Alma burst out laughing.

“What?”

“Oh, Dylan, please. I am not naive. l see the way you smile when you talk about him. I hear the way your voice softens when you say his name. And even if I didn't, every story you've told me tonight has been about Mr. Atlas.”

Dylan wanted to object, but thinking about it, he had been talking about Danny a lot.

''It's not like that," he said. "We're not—”

"No of course not,” she said. "You're both emotionally stunted egomaniacs.”

“Thank you.”

"But maybe it would help if you actually talked to him, hmm?”

They continued their walk, Dylan lost in thought, Alma trying to distract him by pointing out the names of the boats. “We’re not going back until one has made you laugh,” she told him.

When they did finally get back to her hotel, she hugged him tightly and he kissed her forehead.

“I know you can’t talk to me. I know you’re trying to protect me, but we’re friends, Dylan. If you need me—”

“Don’t say it.”

“If you need me, I’ll be here. You only have to ask.”

“See, I said don’t say it and then you said it anyway.”

Alma grinned cheekily and kissed his cheeks. “Go. Go talk to your young man.”

 

Dylan had no intention of talking to Daniel. He made his way back to the hotel, hoping the others had taken his advice of eating and getting an early night, once they’d given up on following him around town; he really didn’t want to answer any questions about Alma. 

As he entered the hotel, however, he heard his name being called across the small lobby. Danny was sitting at the bar, wiggling his fingers at him and well on his way to being drunk.

“Daniel?” 

“Dylan,” Daniel said cheerfully as Dylan sat down next to him. As cheerful as three double vodkas made him anyway. “Can I get you a drink?”

Dylan caught the bartender’s eye and pointed to the empty glasses in front of Danny. “I’ll have one of those and he will have some water.”

“Spoilsport,” Danny grumbled. “I’m not even allowed to drown my sorrows now?”

“What sorrows?”

“Unimportant,” Danny said. He picked up one of his empty glasses and attempted to drain another couple of drops from it. “This is disgusting.”

Dylan downed his vodka as soon as it was put in front of him and ordered another. “Well yeah, if you’ve been drinking it neat.”

Danny picked up the glass of water and took a sip, then another. “Only the last few. It started off with juice in it, but that wasn’t helping.”

“What happened?”

Daniel shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem.”

“I don’t understand,” Dylan said. “Where are the others?”

Danny pointed at the ceiling. “In bed like good little children.” He sat up a little straighter and started to drum his fingers on the bar.

Dylan watched him. It was all he ever seemed to do now. Maybe Alma was right. Maybe he should stop watching and start acting. Not tonight though. He downed his second vodka and nudged the glass of water in front of Danny again. 

“How was your meal?” Daniel asked. He took a sip of the water and made a face. “Ms. Dray was looking very beautiful tonight.”

“So you did follow me.”

“It was Lula’s idea. She’d never seen her before. I tried to stop them, but you know how they get.”

“And then you came back here and got drunk?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Dylan frowned, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Drink up, Daniel,” Dylan urged, which was the only thing he could think of to do in that moment. “All the water and then I’m taking you to bed.”

“Promises, promises,” Danny said and then shook his head. “Sorry. I’m sorry. That was cheap.”

Time seemed to stop for a moment and something icy started to grow in Dylan’s chest. 

Danny knew. 

“Drink, please,” Dylan repeated quietly and Danny drank.

**Act Two**

Daniel had a problem.

Of course, Daniel had several problems, all of which he was aware of. His control issues, his arrogance, his ego. That last one had proven to be nearly fatal, and he wasn't at all proud of it.

But this problem was not of his own making. This one was all Dylan's fault.

 

_Macau, December 2015_

Bu Bu and Li had ushered them further down the rabbit hole, assuring them that everything could be worked out for a spectacular show in London on New Year’s Eve. They had some time to work out the details together, but for now, it had been a long day and they needed rest. There were bedrooms, not quite as luxurious as the Sands, but warm and safe, and that was all that they needed.

Well, Daniel also needed a shower, because he still smelled like murky water, and the mustiness of damp clothes. He sat in the hallway, outside the bathroom, waiting, because Dylan was already in the shower and if anyone needed it more than Danny, it was Dylan.

He could hear Jack and Merritt talking quietly down the hall and he could hear Lula humming to herself as she moved around the room she’d been given. These were his friends, the people he trusted most in the world, though it was nearly impossible to admit, even to himself. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them.

The bathroom door opened and warmth billowed out, making Danny shiver slightly with anticipation of stepping under the hot water and cleaning the river off him.

“Hey,” Dylan greeted him, stepping out of the bathroom, ruined clothes in one hand and clutching a towel around his hips with the other. “All yours.” 

Danny felt as though he’d been frozen in place. He knew he should say something, but he couldn’t think of any words that weren’t inappropriate or indecent.

“Danny, are you okay?”

That propelled Danny into motion because it was one thing to sit and ogle your boss, but it was quite another to have him realize that’s what you were doing.

“Yes. Yes. Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“The longest,” Dylan agreed and he was smiling. 

Danny hated it. He didn’t deserve it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dylan asked again as they traded places.

“Just tired.”

Dylan nodded. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Danny escaped into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him, then he leaned back against it and closed his eyes. 

Shit.

Danny wasn’t prone to wanting people. He enjoyed sex, but he had never gotten the hang of relationships. Henley was a perfect example. She was everything Danny should want, but he’d never been able to make it work. He preferred magic too much. Always had. So when he’d slept with someone in the past it had been a purely fleeting physical thing, nothing he couldn’t walk away from, even half-way through, if he needed to. 

So this was new. Wanting someone. Wanting Dylan. Who’d ever have guessed that was on the cards? Well Bu Bu probably, because she seemed kind of terrifying that way. And Henley, actually, but it wasn’t like she was there to say ‘I told you so.’

He pulled off his damp clothes and turned on the shower, allowing the bathroom to fill with steam again before he stepped under the spray. He braced his hands against the wall and let his head fall forwards. 

It wasn’t even as though Dylan was conventionally attractive. He was rugged, maybe, a little worn around the edges. Danny smiled to himself as he stared down at his own gangly limbs. He wasn’t exactly anything to write home about himself. But Dylan had looked mouth-wateringly good upon stepping out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, and Daniel found himself getting hard at just the memory.

He wrapped his hand around himself and gave a gentle squeeze. The image in his head flicked back a few hours to the marketplace and Dylan reappearing, even after Danny had been such a monumental asshole to him, of Dylan grabbing him, saving him, slamming him back against the wall and then out of harm’s way. He started to stroke himself slowly. This was so wrong, but it felt so good. Had it always been like this? Danny searched back through eighteen months of meetings, of rehearsals, of arguments. His hand started to speed up and his breath came a little faster. Back and back. The carousel. New Orleans. Handcuffed to a table in an interrogation room...

“Fuck,” he gasped, collapsing forward against the wall, watching as the water cleaned away his release. 

He was so completely screwed.

 

_London, January 2016_

The other problem Danny had, of course, was that when he wanted something, he had to have it. Once the excitement of their climactic show on the Thames had abated and they’d finally been granted all the secrets The Eye had to offer, Danny’s brain was free to start making plans of his own.

"Hey, Jack," he murmured, reaching over Jack’s shoulder to point at the bottom shelf of the coffee table. “Could you pass me my cards?" 

Jack handed them over, then folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head back slightly against the cushion. Daniel gave it thirty minutes until Jack fell asleep.

He pulled the cards out of their box, which he tossed down by his feet and the cut the deck, warming up slowly. He could see Dylan out of the corner of his eye, drinking his beer methodically, his attention fixed on Danny rather than the movie. What were they watching anyway? 

“I thought we said no heist movies,” he said quietly, but no one responded, so he ignored the TV and went back to his cards.

It would have been easy to get lost in it, to forget that he had a purpose in doing this, if he hadn’t been so aware that Dylan was watching him. The awareness was strange in itself, since he’d once had an entire conversation with Henley without ever realizing she’d left the room. She’d called him self-absorbed. He hadn’t disagreed.

But this was completely different. 

Dylan was watching Danny like he couldn’t look away and even though that was exactly what Danny wanted, he felt a little overwhelmed. His hands moved faster and faster. Dylan raised the bottle to his lips again and, Jesus, Danny had never felt this turned on before in his life.

A piece of popcorn hit Danny’s cheek and his mouth twisted in annoyance. He caught Jack’s head with his elbow, waking him up just as Merritt managed to get a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

At least with the other three idiots there, Danny wasn’t going to do anything to embarrass himself.

 

Three days later, Daniel watched Dylan hurry out of the house and smiled to himself. He clapped his hands together, feeling satisfied with his progress.

"What are you doing, Daniel?"

Merritt was leaning in the doorway to the living room, looking equal parts smug and concerned.

"Nothing."

"Really? Because it looks to me like you're flirting with Dylan and if you are, then I think, for the sake of the team, it's only right that I ask you what the hell you're thinking?"

Danny turned on his heel and walked away. "I don't have to explain myself to you, okay? You're not my boss."

"No, Dylan is your boss," Merritt said, following him down into the kitchen and out into the conservatory. 

"Look, it's fine," Danny said. "I know what I'm doing."

Merritt grabbed Danny's arm and turned him back to face him. "Look at me."

Defiantly, Danny raised his chin and met Merritt's eyes.

"Is this just for sex?"

Danny tried as hard as he could to keep his face expressionless, but something must have changed because Merritt let him go immediately.

"Daniel. Oh, wow. That's - "

"Stop."

"I'm so proud of you," Merritt said. "I feel like Gepetto when Pinocchio sprang to life for the first time. May I give you a hug?"

"No, you may not."

"I didn't know you had feelings, Danny," Merritt chuckled. "At all."

"Are you done?" Danny asked. "Because I actually have things I can be doing."

"You have a plan don't you? A plan to seduce Dylan. Well. Mazel tov."

"I hate you."

"Hey, I'm on your side, bro. We all are. We can all help."

Danny shook his head. "Please don't help me."

"Okay," Merritt said, "at this point, I'm going to let you do it your way, but if you need input in the future, just know you can come to me."

"That won't happen."

"Or Jack."

"Don't tell Jack."

"Jack's been listening," Jack said, making them both jump. He waved at them from the kitchen. "Hi.”

Danny took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. Fine. You both know."

"And Lula knows," Lula yelled from the garden. "You were right though, it is snowing."

Danny’s fake smile hurt his face.

“Not that it is anyone else’s business,” he said, as the others gathered around him, “but it has come to my attention that I feel certain things for Dylan that I was not aware of. Nor indeed, that I have ever felt before. So, I am just trying to find my way. If I need help, which I won’t, then I’ll ask you for it.”

“Does ‘in-love-Danny’ always talk like he’s the hero of a Jane Austen novel?” Lula asked.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s a no then?”

“Danny,” Jack said, stepping forward to pat his shoulder. “It’s all good. Really. Good luck.”

Danny nodded quickly and looked away. “Thanks.”

 

Dylan looked kind of helpless as he watched the pen spin in Danny’s hand. Danny was taking it as a good sign. He wished he had more of Merritt’s ability to know what people were thinking just from the smallest twitches in their face, but he wasn’t completely hopeless at it and he knew Dylan wasn’t unmoved by him. Or at least, his hands. Which meant it was time to up his game.

He touched the pen to his lips and he heard Jack snort. Asshole.

“Tempt,” Lula said. 

Danny pushed an extra danish onto her plate. Lula was now his favorite.

“Allure.” 

“Entice.”

It was like they weren’t even trying.

“What do those have to do with a backward colleague?” Danny asked and then stuck the pen into his mouth and sucked it slowly, moving it in and out, dragging it against his bottom lip.

Jack snorted again. Danny kicked him.

Looking over at Dylan, who still seemed mesmerized by the twirling pen, Daniel smiled. “Come on, boss. Help me out.”

Danny would admit it wasn’t the best line he’d ever used, but he thought Merritt choking on his coffee was rather an extreme reaction to it. Dylan took the opportunity to escape, stopping only to provide the correct answer to the crossword clue, and Danny filled it in before throwing the pen at Merritt. 

“Jerk.”

Merritt laughed. “I’m sorry, Daniel, but I have to ask, did you get your seduction technique from the movie Clueless?”

“Uh, number one, I’ve never had any complaints about my technique before, so let’s just get that straight and number two, even if I had learned something from the movie Clueless, I wouldn’t think that was a bad thing, because Clueless is an amazing movie.”

“Clueless is amazing, Merritt,” Lula said. “He does have a point about that.”

“Thank you, Lula,” Danny said, patting her hand in a way he knew was condescending, but he really couldn’t help himself.

“It’s just the rest of his strategy that sucks.”

“And you’re no longer my favorite,” Danny told her. “I think that was a record.”

“Now, now,” Jack interrupted, “to be fair to Danny, it was working. I mean maybe it wasn’t very sophisticated, but this is Dylan we’re talking about. Maybe he just needs something simple.”

“Does this particular brand of Daniel Atlas charm work on a lot of people?” Merritt asked. 

“Like I said, I’ve never had any complaints.”

“From women.”

“Not about this.”

“And what about men?” Merritt pressed. “Because I hate to break it to you Danny, but Dylan is not a girl. Nor is he a starry-eyed fanboy. He’s a man, older than you are, who knows every single one of the tricks you could dream up to get into his pants.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Danny argued.

“Yeah it is. If you want more than that then your technique is going to have to change.”

Daniel sat back hard in his seat and looked at each of the others in turn. “Do you all think this?”

“I think it’s obvious he wants you,” Jack said hesitantly. “So I guess it all depends on what exactly you want from him.”

Danny looked down at his empty teacup. Merritt watched him for a minute and then caught Jack’s eye, nodding towards the door. Jack tapped the back of Lula’s hand with his finger and a second later Merritt and Daniel were alone in the kitchen.

“Subtle,” Danny said, not looking up.

“You don’t like talking about your feelings.”

“Well a couple of weeks ago you were convinced I didn’t have any.”

Merritt smiled. “And the best way to get you to talk is to get you mad, so come on Daniel, share with the class.”

“I don’t know,” Danny said. “Is that what you want? I don’t know how I feel because I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Well, explain it to me,” Merritt said. “I’m a man of the world. I’ve been in love.”

Danny’s nose wrinkled slightly.

“Not in love?”

“It’s too soon for that. For love. What even is that?” Danny said. “And before you start, I have nothing against love, I just never thought I’d be in it that’s all. Nothing ever mattered as much as magic.”

Merritt nodded thoughtfully. “But Dylan does.”

“Dylan is magic,” Danny said, and then looked down again, clearly uncomfortable. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s just someone I really like that I want to have sex with.”

“Well maybe,” Merritt said, “but I don’t think so. For one thing, you’ve put a lot of effort into getting his attention, which you already know you have. If you just wanted to have sex you’d have done it and moved on. So tell me the truth. How do you feel when you’re around him?”

Danny thought about the way his chest got tight when Dylan praised him. He thought about the way his breath caught when Dylan smiled at him. He thought about the way the blood pounded in his veins when they argued.

Merritt reached across the table and squeezed Danny’s wrist. “So proud of you.”

“I haven’t said a word.”

“Your face says plenty.”

“Blow me.”

“And how many guys have you been with?” Merritt asked. “So I know what I’m working with.”

“None of your business.”

“One, two, three - three. And let me guess. They all approached you.” He clapped his hands together and batted his eyelashes. “Oh my gosh, J. Daniel Atlas, I’m your biggest fan. Please let me give you a handjob in the men’s room.”

Danny felt his eye twitch and cursed himself silently.

“Okay, no, two of them were like that. One was you doing the approaching. Someone older. When? After Henley left. And you were experimenting. Did you like it? Yes. I mean, not the guy, obviously, you haven’t seen him again, but you wanted to test something. Because of Hen… Did Henley think you had a thing for Dylan?”

“I really hate you sometimes.”

Merritt smiled. “Danny, Henley has been gone for a while. And you’ve just shoved this all down and kept it bubbling away. No wonder you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“So what do you suggest, Merritt? Since you’re apparently an expert now.”

“Let me think about it and get back to you,” Merritt said, getting to his feet. “Try to relax, okay, buddy? Deep breaths.”

 

_London, February 2016_

They walked back through the park, knowing they had hours to fill before they could reasonably go home and disturb Jack and Lula, and both instinctively drawn towards the Observatory and The Eye. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Danny asked when they reached the top of the hill.

Dylan shook his head and leaned on the courtyard railings, staring through the blackness of the park towards the twinkling light of the river. A thin layer of frost had already formed on the grass and it sparkled in the moonlight. It was so quiet, it felt as though they were the only two people in the world right then.

Danny couldn't remember ever celebrating Valentine’s day before. He had a vague recollection of producing a red rose for Henley once, but he knew that had probably been more about him showing off than trying to do something nice for her. He glanced at Dylan and wondered if he'd be impressed by a rose.

"Do a trick for me," Dylan said, turning to face him.

“A trick?”

“You’re a magician,” Dylan pointed out, smiling. “You do magic. Do a magic trick.”

Daniel smiled, ducked his head, nodded. “Okay.”

“Come on, Atlas, show me what you’ve got.”

“You know you’re going to know how it was done, no matter what I do.”

“It doesn’t make it any less impressive, trust me. Besides, I like watching you.”

Daniel smirked. “Really?”

“Don’t fish for compliments,” Dylan told him. “Come on, it’s freezing.”

“Okay,” Danny said. “Okay. Do you have some change?”

Dylan fished in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a fifty pence piece and four pennies.

“Wow,” said Danny. “Okay, alright, I can work with that. Fifty four pence. Hold it tight in your fist.”

“Should I take my gloves off?”

“Only if you want to catch a cold,” Danny said. “Really, Dylan, it’s freezing out here. We should have gone to the movies.”

Dylan laughed, but closed his hand around the money. “Okay.”

“Okay, so one fifty pence, that’s silver, and four pennies, which are copper. Choose a metal.”

“Silver,” Dylan said immediately.

They were both smiling, heads bent close together. “My God, it’s cold,” Danny laughed. “No, shush. I’m doing magic.” He waved his hand over Dylan’s fist. “I’m going to make the fifty pence disappear. On the count of three, open your hand. One, two, three.”

Dylan opened his hand and sure enough, the coin had vanished. He grinned widely at Danny. “Hey.”

“Um, Dylan, what time is it?” 

“Uh,” Dylan said, pulling at the glove on his other hand to check his watch. “Nine.”

“Oh, wait, what’s wrong with your watch?” Danny asked, just as Dylan felt something rub against his skin.

“No way.” He slipped off his watch and caught the fifty pence which had been resting beneath the face.

Daniel beamed. “Ta da!”

“Wow. That was great.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you as cold as I am?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Would you like to go and get a drink now, somewhere warm?”

Danny had started nodding half way through the question and they walked back down the hill towards the warmth of a pub and beer, and maybe even a fire, both feeling a lot lighter than they had walking up.

 

_Marseille, March 2016_

It was Lula’s idea to follow Dylan.

“No,” Danny said when he came out of the bathroom to grab his bag, to find the others waiting expectantly. “No way. We should just do as he said. Eat and sleep.”

“We can do that afterwards,” Lula said, pushing him towards the door, while Merritt went to turn off the shower. “I want to see the competition.”

“I’m so glad my problems are entertaining for you,” Danny said. “Would you all like to punch me in the face too?”

Jack grabbed Daniel’s arm and pulled him down the corridor towards the elevators. “I know you’re joking, but let’s stop saying things that might actually get you punched, okay?”

“Help me out then. The last thing I want to do tonight is watch Dylan make puppy-dog eyes at Alma Dray.”

“He hasn’t talked to her in nearly a year,” Jack said. “This is nothing.”

“How do you know when he talked to her?”

“I know things,” Jack said. “The advantage of being the quiet one is that everyone forgets I’m there.”

“That’s not true.”

Jack grinned. “Don’t try to make me feel better, Danny. You suck at it. Besides, I’m good. I have the best job in the world. The best friends.”

“And yet you still want to torture me.”

“Or prove you wrong. Mostly that.”

 

Daniel stayed at the back of the group, while Lula hurried ahead. They followed Dylan for fifteen minutes before he made four left turns in quick succession and Danny stopped, sighed, grabbed Merritt’s arm.

“He knows we’re following him. He just led us in a circle.”

“He has to get there eventually,” Merritt pointed out. “We just have to be patient. We’re doing this for you, Daniel.”

“No, you’re not,” Danny said. “I just wanted to get dinner.”

“Yeah, you were planning to have a nice romantic dinner with Dylan. Aren’t you pissed?”

“It’s not like he knew,” Danny protested. “It was just an idea. Anyway it wasn’t going to be that romantic with you three there.”

“It was a good idea.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Daniel said. “Let’s just get some food and go back to the hotel, okay?”

 

They couldn’t agree on where to eat, so they ended up at a McDonald’s by the harbor, crowded around a table that was much too small, eating in silence.

“We should have sat outside,” Lula said eventually, when it became too much for her. “More cosmopolitan.”

“It’s McDonald’s,” Danny snapped. “We could eat it on the moon and it still wouldn’t be impressive.”

“I’m going to make you like me one day, Atlas. You’ll see.”

“Now, kids,” Merritt said. “Let’s not fight. We’re all very tired. It’s been a stressful evening. Let’s not say anything we can’t take back.”

“Dylan’s over there,” Jack said, staring out of the window to a restaurant across the street. “That’s Alma Dray isn’t it?”

They scrambled out of their seats, pressing the faces to the window to see what Jack was pointing at.

“That’s her,” Merritt confirmed. “I kind of forgot how stunning she is.”

“That’s her?” Lula said. “Wow. Wow. I mean, she is… Sorry, Danny.”

“That’s great,” Danny muttered. “Does anyone know where I can trade the three of you in for friends that don’t suck?”

“We’re sorry, Daniel,” Merritt said, looking over at him. “We’re being insensitive.”

“No shit.”

“I know something that will help you though.”

“And what is that?”

“Booze.” 

 

Two hours later, Daniel sat alone at the hotel bar, wondering if one more drink would allow him to pass out and not think about whatever it was Dylan and Alma were doing right then. He knew it was irrational. He knew it was his own fault. He should have spoken up sooner. 

He leaned on the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish serving the only other person in the room. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dylan walk back into the hotel and called out to him automatically.

Damn, he was so pathetic. Was he really that desperate for a smile and a kind word before bed?

“Daniel?” Dylan smiled, puzzled but possibly amused.

Yeah, Danny was absolutely that desperate.

“Dylan! Can I get you a drink?”

Dylan ordered a drink for himself and water for Danny, which didn’t seem fair. 

“Spoilsport. I’m not even allowed to drown my sorrows now?”

“What sorrows?”

Danny was an idiot. A stupid drunken idiot. He shouldn’t be allowed to talk to anyone ever again. 

“Unimportant.” He took a sip of the water that was placed in front of him. 

“What happened?” 

Dylan on the other hand could keep on talking forever. There was something about his voice that made Danny feel unstoppable.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem.” And there it was again. Danny’s inability to shut up. Getting drunk had been a terrible idea. He was going to kill Merritt.

He started to drum his fingers on the bar. Dylan liked his hands. He was sure about that even if he wasn’t sure about anything else. He watched Dylan watch him and ached with not being able to reach out and touch.

“How was your meal?” Daniel asked eventually. A voice in his head was yelling at him to shut up. It sounded suspiciously like Henley. “Ms. Dray was looking very beautiful tonight.”

“So you did follow me.”

Dylan didn’t look angry, just confused. It had taken Danny a while to work out what “confused” looked like on Dylan Shrike. The look of bewilderment that had graced his face time and again before they learned who he really was had quickly revealed itself to be a masterful piece of acting. Danny had learned that Dylan wasn’t often confused by anything, but here he was. J. Daniel Atlas had done the unthinkable. He should get an award.

“Drink up, Daniel,” Dylan urged. “All the water and then I’m taking you to bed.”

“Promises, promises.”

Danny felt Dylan stiffen up next to him and he closed his eyes in horror.

Fuck getting an award. Daniel should be marooned on an uninhabited island where he couldn’t embarrass himself by hitting on his boss. And worse still, now Dylan would know. He could read them all better than anyone and now he’d know how Danny felt and obviously he didn’t feel the same way. Everything was going to go to hell and it was all going to Danny’s fault. Again.

“Drink, please,” Dylan repeated quietly and Danny drank.

**Act Three**

_London, January 2016_

They drove out of the city, high on the excitement of performing, of winning, of escaping.

Daniel felt the adrenaline rushing through him, his whole body vibrating with the joy of doing what he loved, with the people he loved. He wanted to hold onto it as long as he could, knowing that the euphoria would soon be followed by a crash. Shame and guilt were already snapping as his heels. He needed to do something.

Beside him, on his left, Lula was in Jack's lap. Their heads were bent close, kissing and whispering together. Merritt was sitting up front with Li, talking nonstop, though Danny was hard pressed to distinguish any of the words. He looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking. He thought he might fall apart and the others would never know.

He felt a hand on the back of his neck and looked immediately at Dylan who was sitting on his right, leaning against the door. He looked tired, but happy.

"It's okay," Dylan said quietly. "We're okay."

A dozen meanings of the words flew through Daniel's head and he didn't know which one was right one. He couldn't assume it was the one that gave him the most comfort.

"Dylan—"

"Stop at the next gas station," Dylan said, raising his voice to interrupt Li and Merritt. "Please." 

It was another ten minutes before they stopped and Dylan's hand stayed on Danny's neck the entire time, unmoving — just present, like an anchor, holding Danny down.

"Everybody out," Dylan said. "Stretch your legs. Buy some food. Use the restroom. You can come back in fifteen minutes." 

The others started to scramble out of the van, doors slamming behind them. Danny shifted slightly, unsure.

"Not you," Dylan said. "You need to calm down."

"I'm fine," Danny said automatically, though he wasn't sure why, since they both knew it wasn't true.

"I know how this goes, Daniel. Sometimes your brain works too fast. Right now you're speeding past enjoying the moment and I'm telling you to stop."

"I don't think just telling me to stop is going to help," Danny said, rolling his eyes.

Dylan smiled a little. "You're so argumentative."

"Thank you."

"And you take the strangest things as compliments," Dylan said, smiling a little wider. "Although, it was a compliment. As was this."

Daniel watched Dylan, feeling confused. "What's happening?"

"You're allowed to feel happy right now. You did good today."

There wasn’t really anything Daniel could say to that which wouldn’t be arguing again. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Not a clue,” Dylan said and then laughed. “Exciting isn’t it?”

“That’s one word for it.”

“What do you need?”

Danny looked up, surprised, but Dylan was just watching him, waiting.

“This is good. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

 

_New York, April 2016_

Dylan’s apartment in New York was little more than a room to crash in. He had a few of them around the country, which no one knew about. He’d learned early on in life that every plan he made needed a back-up, and the more escape routes you had, the easier it was to disappear.

He’d also learned that it was pointless to get attached to things. His home — the place he’d called home for years — would have been searched and his things seized by the FBI as soon as his involvement with the Horsemen became public knowledge, and the thought had never bothered him once in the five months they’d been in hiding. 

At least, not until he’d decided to bring them all back to New York, to put some space between himself and Daniel, to give them all a chance to get back to normal without having to constantly be in each others space. 

Now everything just seemed empty and dull. He hadn’t seen Daniel in a month and the others in close to two weeks, and he missed them all in a way he wasn’t used to, a way that made him ache.

He could hear the rain beating against the window as he lay in bed, reluctant to get up and face another barrage of emails, messages, and missed calls. He wasn’t proud that he was allowing his feelings to dictate his actions, but he didn’t know how to combat it. He couldn’t plan a thirty year campaign to make Danny fall in love with him.

He’d already tried.

He rolled over and reached out to grab his phone from the nightstand, but he froze, his attention caught by something on the window. Throwing back the covers, he stepped closer and reached out towards it.

A tarot card — Wheel of Fortune — sat in the middle of the window, trapped between the two panes of glass. It hadn’t been there the night before when he’d gone to bed. He glanced at the clock. Only six hours had passed and he’d been right there, asleep the whole time.

He couldn’t get to the card without breaking the window, so he pulled it open instead and climbed out onto the fire escape. On the back of the card was the address of a dive bar in Brooklyn Heights, with the day’s date and a time that evening. 

Dylan climbed back inside, shivering slightly from the cool early morning rain.

The Wheel of Fortune card denoted a turning point in life and upright, as this was, it meant good luck. Maybe this was The Eye reaching out to him. He’d spent a month wallowing in self-pity, and it was time to stop and get back to work.

 

Daniel had spent the four weeks since Dylan had dragged them back to New York going quietly out of his mind. 

For one thing, he hated New York. He had always hated it. If Dylan was just going to abandon him — again — then Daniel wanted to be somewhere he liked, and New York wasn’t it. He could go home to Chicago and see his parents (he didn’t want to do that), or get high with Rebecca in the parking lot of Taco Bell like on prom night (he really didn’t want to do that), or do magic. He missed magic. He missed magic so fucking much. Even being in New York wouldn’t suck so much if he could actually do the thing he’d worked his whole life to do.

And then of course there was the fact that he was alone. For someone who had spent most of his life alone, he wasn’t finding the transition back to solitude easy. They’d been one single, frustrating, annoying unit for months and now it was strange to be separated from them. He’d never been very good at responding to texts or returning calls, and that had been fine while they were all living under one roof, but now they were scattered across the city, with no plans on the horizon and without Dylan this time, assuring them that everything was going to be okay.

Which led to the third thing that was driving Danny crazy. 

It had been four weeks since he’d seen or heard from Dylan. Not one phone call or email or abrupt “Meet me here in two hours” text like he’d been prone to send before their Macau adventure. Danny had spent the first week filling up Dylan’s voicemail with increasingly angry messages, asking where he was and what was going on and what Danny was meant to do. He’d had no response.

He knew what it meant. Dylan had been distant ever since that stupid, god-awful night in Marseille when Danny had gotten drunk and said too much. He couldn’t even remember everything that had happened, but the following day had been so uncomfortable for everyone that Jack had taken him aside that night and asked what the hell he’d done. Danny would have asked, but Dylan hadn’t allowed the two of them to be to be alone for even a minute since then. They’d gone from Marseille to London to New York within two days and he now here he was, agonizing over every moment.

His apartment felt too big. He needed to get out. He needed to talk to someone. 

And there was only one person he could think of that could help him.

 

_Brooklyn Heights, April 2016_

Dylan paused in the doorway of the bar, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light inside. There was a bar along one side of the room with booths opposite, and a stage at the far end where a band was setting up. It was mostly empty, even though the chalkboard behind the bar proclaimed it was Happy Hour.

He sat at the bar, nursing a beer for the next fifteen minutes, glancing at the door every time it opened. He’d spent all day wondering what this meeting was about and debating whether or not he should involve the others. He’d settled on waiting to find out what the job was, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have told someone where he was going. He remembered telling Danny how hard he found it to work with other people. The sensible thing to do right now would be to call Danny and tell him what was happening. Assure him that he hadn’t been forgotten.

With a heavy sigh he took another pull on his beer. He had well and truly fucked things up this time.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned his head to find a behemoth of a man looming over him, looking furious.

“Dylan Shrike?”

He definitely should have made that call.

 

_Times Square, April 2016_

Henley looked genuinely pleased to see Daniel when she saw him approaching. She smiled brightly and gave a little wave, which was nice, considering the last time he'd seen her in person she'd been yelling at him.

He had no illusions that he hadn’t deserved it.

She hugged him, which he allowed, and then she raised her hand to pat his cheek which made him twist away.

"Stop. I'm fine."

"You're an idiot, is what you are," Henley said, and pecked him on the cheek instead.

"Yes, yes, you were right. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have doubted you, blah, blah blah."

Henley frowned at him and then looked around as though searching for someone. "Who are you and what have you done with Daniel?"

"I took over his body with a plan to eat the brains of all of his friends. Sadly, it appears that it's going to be a meager feast."

Slipping her arm through his, Henley laughed. "Well that sounds more like you."

"Thank you."

They walked to an Italian restaurant nearby and Henley gave her name to the hostess who showed them to a table by the window. 

“This is nice,” Henley said as she opened her menu, making Daniel laugh. “What? It is nice.”

“I know,” Daniel said. “It is. It’s just — you.”

“Me?”

“You always do that,” he told her. “When you sit down in a nice restaurant you say ‘This is nice.’ It’s just pure Henley.”

“And?”

“And nothing. I like it. I missed it.” He looked down at his menu, fully aware that she was watching him. “Do you want something to start?”

They ordered their food and a bottle of wine and Danny avoided all the pointed looks Henley threw at him until their waiter had disappeared and they were left alone.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t,” she said. “There’s something different about you.”

“The hair?”

“No,” she drawled. “More like... humility.”

“Gee, thanks.”

"Oh, Danny, come on. You know better than anyone how you are. You don’t ask for help." She reached across the table and put her hand over his. "I came because you asked me to and God knows you need help. Lots and lots of help. Professional help."

"Is there a point to this?"

"The point is, I'm here for you and I want to help you, but I want to do it right."

"I don’t need help,” Danny insisted. “I just need someone to talk to who isn’t Merritt, or Jack, or Lula, okay? And obviously it can’t be Dylan..."

“Obviously,” Henley interrupted, smiling. “I’m all ears. You can talk to me about anything.”

 

_New York, April 2015_

_"But the thing is Danny, that you're not even listening to me right now. I could be saying anything. I am such an idiot."_

_Daniel blinked and then looked up from his phone and blinked again at Henley, "Sorry, what?"_

_Henley pursed her lips and took a deep breath. "Why don't you call him?"_

_"Call who?" Danny asked, setting the phone down on the table. In less than thirty seconds it was back in his hand._

_"Dylan."_

_"I don't want to talk to Dylan," Danny told her. "What's wrong with you?"_

_"What's wrong with me?" Henley said, throwing her hands in the air. "Oh, I don't know, Daniel. Maybe the fact that you have spent the last two hours checking your phone obsessively instead of actually working with me. Maybe the fact that this is the seventh time I’ve tried to get your attention. Maybe the fact that I would obviously have to be our elusive lord and master to have any chance of keeping your attention for more than five minutes."_

_"You’re being ridiculous," Daniel told her._

_"I can't do this anymore," she said, sounding a little defeated. "You and me. The Eye. I'm tired."_

_"What? No, Henley you're not thinking of leaving The Eye.”_

_She smiled bitterly. "Anyone else would have gone with 'you're not thinking of leaving me.' I suppose it's good to know I've made the right decision."_

_"I don't—" Danny said and then seemed to realize that whatever he was about to say would have made things worse. "Don't leave because of me."_

_"I'm not leaving because of you," Henley told him. "I've stayed this long for you, which is not the same thing, but it's also not the right thing. You're never going to feel the same way about me as I feel about you."_

_Daniel stared at her, truly looking at her for the first time in far too long. "Don't leave."_

_"I have to."_

_"Henley," Danny said and he had to force the words out, it was so painful. "Please don't go. You're my... you're my best friend."_

_"I know," she said, and there were tears in her eyes now. "But that's not what I want and it hurts too much now."_

_And Daniel, having already bared too much, lashed out. "Fine. Then go. If this is too hard for you, if you can't handle it, then leave. We don't need you."_

_"Danny..."_

_"But don't put this on me and don't put it on Dylan. He's risked everything for us and we have to trust him."_

_"He’s risked everything for us?” Henley yelled incredulously, raising her voice to match Danny’s indignation. “We risked everything for him! We did everything he told us to do to join The Eye and it's been nine months and we're still hiding in the shadows. Jack can barely go outside. We're going through the motions, begging for whatever scraps Dylan chooses to send our way and feeling grateful when he does. It's bullshit, Danny, and you know it. And the Daniel I know wouldn't have put up with it either."_

_"And you're saying what? That I'm putting up with it because I have a crush? Because I'm not you, alright. Don't project your own issues onto me."_

_Henley stared at him for a moment, open-mouthed, and then turned on her heel and left._

_New York, April 2016_

Danny jogged up the stairs to his apartment, leftover pizza box in his left hand, keys bouncing rhythmically in his right. He’d put Henley in a cab after their meal, and rode the subway back to his apartment, thinking over what she’d said.

_“Danny, how long did it take us to get Metamorphosis right?”_

_“A few months.”_

_“Six. It took six months from the day we started to the day we could do it in front of people.”_

_“I don’t think it was really that long.”_

_“The point is that you didn’t give up. Daniel Atlas does not give up. Not ever. So why are you giving up on Dylan? If he’s being a jerk, go get in his face. Be a bigger jerk. We both know you can.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“And if things are messed up anyway, what do you have to lose?”_

The answer of course, was nothing. He was miserable. He’d been miserable for a month and the only way he was going to be able to move on, one way or another, was by calling Dylan out on all this shit and being honest about his feelings.

The thought of doing it made him feel sick, but he was still going to do it. Henley was right. He wasn’t a quitter.

He could see his apartment door was ajar as he climbed the last couple of steps and groaned. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Lula and Jack, and their lovey dovey relationship crap right now. He just wanted to go to spend a couple of hours planning how to solve his Dylan problem.

A glance at the lock as he entered told him the door had been forced. He shook his head as he kicked it closed behind him.

“I gave you a key so you’d stop breaking in,” he said, dropping the pizza box on the coffee table, along with his keys. “You really have to stop doing that.”

“I’m sorry.”

Danny spun around, surprised to find Dylan, rather than Lula, sitting at his kitchen counter. Or rather, slumped over the kitchen counter, resting his head on his arms. “Dylan!”

“I don’t have a key. Who are you giving out keys to?”

“I gave Jack a key so he’d stop picking the lock,” Daniel said, defensively. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't go home," Dylan said quietly. "There was an incident." He raised his head, shifting on the stool to face Danny properly.

"What the hell happened?" Danny exclaimed, stalking towards him upon seeing the black eye and cut lip he was sporting.

"It was nothing," Dylan said. "I'm fine."

Danny ignored him, grabbing Dylan's chin and turning his head so he could get a better look. "It doesn't look like nothing. It looks like you got your ass kicked again."

"Yeah well, you should see the other guy," Dylan said, smiling. "Really. It's nothing."

"Then why couldn't you go home?" Danny asked. He grabbed a towel from a drawer by the sink, and used it to scoop a handful of ice out of the icebox.

"Because somehow he knows where I live. Or whoever hired him. They sent me a card."

Danny pressed the ice against Dylan's eye, making him hiss. "Sorry."

"No you're not."

"No," Danny said. "You deserve it."

"Some nursemaid you are."

"If you'd wanted sympathy, you picked the wrong friends," Danny said. “What do you mean they sent you a card?”

“Wheel of Fortune,” Dylan elaborated. “It was in my bedroom window when I woke up this morning.”

“In your window?”

“Between the panes of glass.”

Daniel looked intrigued. “How?”

“Can we work that out after we’ve dealt with the person who wants me dead?”

Daniel was staring past Dylan now, trying to work out the trick. “They’d have had to remove the window while you were asleep.”

“Have you forgotten the part where I was beaten up?”

“You said you were fine,” Danny said pointedly, meeting Dylan’s eyes again. 

“I was putting on a brave face,” Dylan said.

“It’s a stupid face,” Danny muttered. “Don’t think I’m going to ignore that you’ve been avoiding me for the last month either.”

“Are you going to complain the entire time I’m here?”

“Yes.”

Dylan tried to hide his smile, but Danny felt a huge surge of affection on seeing it, and had to turn away. He pushed the ice-pack into Dylan’s hand and shrugged out of his coat, using the few seconds it took him to hang it up to regain his composure.

“You can stay here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll get the others together and we’ll find out what happened.”

Dylan nodded. “Danny—”

“You should rest. I’ll get you a blanket.”

 

Dylan woke up the next morning on Daniel’s couch, with a headache. He groaned as he shifted onto his back and pushed the blanket down to his feet.

“Good morning.”

Dylan forced open his eyes to find Daniel sitting at the kitchen counter reading the newspaper.

“Morning.”

“There’s coffee and aspirin there,” Danny said, though he didn’t look up from whatever he was reading. He looked a little flushed.

Dylan turned his head towards the coffee table and saw the mug and pills, as promised. He sat up and reached for both. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

It was all very polite. Dylan wondered if maybe things really could go back to normal after all, and this whole last month would just be an aberration.

“I was thinking I’d go by your place,” Danny said. “See if anyone’s watching it.”

Dylan nodded. “That would be good. Thank you.”

“Of course you’ll have to tell me where you live.”

“Yes,” Dylan said with a faint smile. “I do trust you.”

Danny muttered something he couldn’t hear, so Dylan reached for the TV remote and turned on the morning news.

They sat quietly, Daniel reading the newspaper and Dylan flicking through TV channels, until Danny got up and made them both another coffee, and joined Dylan on the couch.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, so seriously that Dylan almost laughed.

“Okay.”

“It’s about what happened in Marseille and what’s been happening for a long time. I know you don’t want to, but I think it’s important that we clear the air.”

Dylan really didn’t want to have this conversation, but Danny was right and if he could be grown-up about it, then so could Dylan. He nodded slightly.

“Well,” Danny said, taking a deep breath. “It started in Macau. Or actually I guess, it started like two years ago, but…” He trailed off, his attention caught by the TV. “Shit.”

_“...because it appears that Henley Reeves may be rejoining the fugitive band of magicians known as the Horsemen. Pictures surfaced on social media last night of Reeves having an intimate dinner in New York with former lover and fellow Horseman, Daniel Atlas…”_

A photograph appeared on the screen of Henley and Daniel, clearly taken the previous evening by someone in the restaurant. Henley’s hand was on Daniel’s arm and they were smiling stupidly at each other. 

Daniel winced. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like you had dinner with Henley last night,” Dylan said flatly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It never came up,” Danny told him. “It’s not that I was keeping it from you. I just didn’t get around to telling you about it.” 

Dylan was quiet for a long moment. "How is she?"

"She's fine," Danny said. "She's good. You could ask her yourself. I know you know where she is."

"I'm asking you," Dylan said, searching Daniel's face for some sign of how he was feeling.

"She doesn’t want to come back, if that’s what you’re asking."

"It’s not," Dylan said, frustrated. "Why are there pictures, Daniel? You should know better."

Danny blinked. "Seriously? That’s why you’re pissed? Because some idiot took a picture and put it on Twitter?”

“They know we’re here now,” Dylan replied, raising his voice slightly. “They’re going to focus their attention here.”

“You're the one who brought us back here,” Danny said, matching his tone to Dylan’s as he got to his feet. “You decided, without giving any of us a reason, to leave the one place we were happy and actually starting to like. The place we were a family. You uprooted us and then you left me here, alone in this apartment and ignored me for a month. So you don't get to turn around now and be mad that Henley and I had dinner."

"Are you leaving?"

Danny stopped his furious pacing and stared at Dylan in astonishment. "What?"

"Are you leaving? Us. The Eye. Do you want out?"

"Are you out of your goddamn mind? What kind of question is that?"

"Henley left."

"Why are you so worried about Henley all of a sudden?" Danny asked. "You said yourself, you let her go."

"She wanted to leave."

"And what the fuck have I done in the last five months that gave you the impression I wanted to leave?"

Dylan didn't answer immediately. "I thought maybe you wanted to be with her."

"If I wanted to be with her, I'd be with her," Danny snapped. "She's my friend. I miss her sometimes. The way friends miss their friends when they're used to seeing them every day and then are suddenly abandoned."

"You're being a little bit over-dramatic now," Dylan said. "No one abandoned you."

"Then what do you call it?” Danny asked. “A whole month, Dylan. Four weeks when you were ignoring my messages and pretending I didn’t exist. I know you saw the others, so it’s obviously just me you have a problem with. What happened to learning to trust me, huh? What did I do?"

"Nothing,” Dylan hurried to tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just had some stuff to sort out.”

“Bullshit.”

They stared at each other across the room. 

“I'm sorry," Dylan said finally.

"That's it?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Danny shook his head. “I don’t know what I want you to say.” He turned away as Dylan got to his feet. “Maybe you should just leave.”

Dylan’s mind was turning over scenarios faster than he could process them. Daniel stood with his back to him, his shoulders hunched, head down. There was nothing Dylan could say right that would make it better, so he grabbed his coat and his shoes and did as Danny asked.

 

As it always had when faced with upsetting situations, Daniel's mind immediately turned to magic. 

Magic was so much easier than people. It had rules. It had structure. People were messy and complicated and didn't always behave the way you wanted them to. Danny liked things that behaved the way he wanted them to. 

He took out a deck of cards and started to shuffle them.

This was all his fault. He was the one who had tried to control Dylan. He'd been the one to start, well, flirting. 

Dylan hadn't minded that. He'd flirted back. He'd spent hours watching Danny practice, giving him suggestions, talking with him about anything and everything. And he did like Danny's hands a lot. 

It had been Marseille where everything had gone wrong, but since he couldn't remember half of what he'd done the night he'd gotten drunk, he didn't even know what he was meant to fix.

Distracted as he was, he didn't notice the breeze from the open window until a particularly strong draft caught the cards and sent them scattering across the room.

With a curse, he moved to gather them up, crawling across the floor on his hands and knees. 

He swept his arm under the couch to collect the errant Queen of Spades, and also managed to send a tarot card spinning across the floor.

The Lovers.

"Where did you come from?” he asked aloud and reached for it.

 

_Marseille March 2016_

_Danny was leaning against the wall outside their room, rifling through his pockets for his key. He knew it was there somewhere._

_Dylan was watching him from the opposite side of the hall, looking far too amused for Daniel's comfort._

_“I have a key," Dylan told him when Danny said fuck three times in a row._

_“l know,” Danny said, "but where's mine?”_

_“Let's worry about that tomorrow," Dylan said, pushing away from the wall and stepping closer to Daniel. "Right now you need to sleep it off.”_

_Daniel pulled his hand out of his pocket with a triumphant "Ah hah!” bringing with it not only the key, but also the card Dylan had given him two years ago. The Lovers._

_It fluttered to the ground and Dylan bent down to pick it up._

_“You still have this?”_

_“It's for luck,” Danny said, reaching for it. "Can I have it back?”_

_Dylan handed it over with a smile._

_Danny smiled back and swayed towards him, catching his hands on Dylan's shoulders. Dylan was still smiling._

_"You should kiss me," Danny told him, staring at Dylan's mouth._

_“No,” Dylan sighed, "l really shouldn't.”_

_“I want you to.”_

_“You're drunk,” Dylan said, "and sad. I'm not going to take advantage of you.”_

_"Dylan -”_

_“Danny,” Dylan insisted, “it’s not a good idea right now. Not while you’re drunk.”_

_“But if I wasn’t drunk. Tomorrow.”_

_Dylan watched Danny’s face carefully for a moment and then nodded. “If you still want to. Tomorrow. Yes.”_

_New York, April 2016_

Daniel’s hand hovered over the card as the memory came flooding back to him and he closed his eyes, irritated at himself. How could he have forgotten that? He hadn’t approached Dylan the following day or even spent more that a couple of minutes talking to him that wasn’t related to the job they were doing. 

He picked up the card and frowned.

It wasn’t The Lovers at all.

It was The Fool.

Daniel stared at it for a moment, unsure, and then flipped it over. He laughed when he read the meeting place and relaxed a little, nodding to himself. It was time for a new beginning.

 

It took Dylan three times as long as it should have to to get home, but he had to be sure no one was following him. He rode the train out to Flushing and back, changed twice to get to Battery Park and then, when he was sure he was alone, he got a cab back to his building.

The journey at least gave him time to think and the conclusion he came to as he pushed open the door of his apartment, was that he was an idiot.

The last month he’d spent isolating himself had been utterly miserable and seeing Daniel again had just strengthened his feelings, rather than diminished them. It was ridiculous that one man could make him feel this way. Especially Daniel, who Dylan had watched and studied and chosen because of his dedication and his love of magic, as much as his skill. He’d thought he’d been so clever, but Atlas had always been his weak point and he always would be. 

Now he just had to trust that in being honest and telling Daniel everything, he wouldn’t find that weakness being used against him. He’d told Danny he trusted him. It was time to prove it. 

He walked through his bedroom to the bathroom, pulling off his clothes as he went; he needed a shower and a plan of action. 

Pushing back the shower curtain, Dylan froze, frowned. Something was wrong. Different.

He made his way back out into the bedroom slowly, looking around at everything, trying to spot what was out of place. Nothing appeared to have been moved since he’d left the day before, but something was wrong. He knew it. 

His eyes went finally to the tarot card in the window. It was still in the exact same place, but it was no longer Wheel of Fortune.

It was The Lovers.

 

_Central Park, New York, April 2016_

It was nearly midnight and for the second time in his life, Daniel knew with absolute certainty that this was where he was meant to be; sitting on the steps leading up to the carousel, the tarot card weaving its way around his fingers, from hand to hand, while he watched it with detached focus.

He heard Dylan approaching even before the carousel started up behind him. He'd been expecting both.

Dylan walked towards his slowly, hands in his pockets. He didn’t seem particularly surprised to see Danny there.

“So, it appears that I’m an idiot,” Danny said, holding up his card for Dylan to see. “Can I join your club?”

Dylan smiled, ducked his head, and then moved closer to join Danny on the steps. “Only if I can join yours,” he said, pulling his own card out of his pocket. “They changed it.”

“Which two do you want to kill?”

“Two?”

“No way Henley didn’t know.”

“I don’t know,” Dylan laughed, “I was thinking maybe we could get them a gift.”

“Lull them into a false sense of security first, you mean?” Danny considered it. “Interesting idea. They did arrange to have you beaten up. Probably.”

Dylan nudged Danny’s shoulder with his own and they sat companionably together, listening to the music of the carousel until it changed to a different piece of music.

"l like your hands,” Dylan said eventually. 

Daniel's mouth quirked into a smile and he held up his left hand, wiggling his fingers. “I know.”

Dylan bit his lip to stop himself laughing. “I'm rather attached to the rest of you too.”

“I am all in favor of you being attached to me any way you want,” Danny said. “I am not immune to your charms. Even if you do keep them well hidden.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Well then,” Danny said. “Maybe we're perfect for each other.”

Dylan gave in to temptation and took hold of Danny's hand, tangling their fingers together.

"I’ve created a monster," Danny said, amused. 

"You’ve known this whole time?" Dylan asked. "Since New Year?”

“About your hand obsession? Yes, since New Year. About my feelings? Since way before then," Danny admitted. "If I'm being honest.”

“I'm going to need to hear the whole story," Dylan told him, grinning outright.

"It's not entirely flattering you know,” Danny warned. 

“I'm a big boy,” Dylan assured him. “I can take it.”

“Okay, well, once upon a time there was an asshole named Dylan Shrike, who decided he was going to completely ruin the life of the greatest magician of the age, J. Daniel Atlas.”

“Greatest magician of the age,” Dylan repeated, nodding along.

“That’s right.”

“And how did he ruin Atlas’s life, exactly?”

“He recruited him into a secret society. Gave him friends and a purpose…”

"Wow, " Dylan interrupted, “he sounds like a total jerk.”

"And then," Danny continued loudly over the top of him, “he dicked around in a park at midnight, instead of just kissing—”

The end of the sentence was muffled as Dylan leaned in and did just what Danny wanted.

Danny’s eyes fluttered shut and he smiled as their noses brushed. Dylan’s lips were soft and teasing and Danny squirmed slightly, wanting to get closer, wanting more. He was intensely aware of Dylan’s knee pressed against his own and their hands still joined between them, Dylan’s thumb brushing over his palm. 

He murmured a little when Dylan pulled back, already leaning in for another kiss, but Dylan raised his free hand, cupped Daniel’s cheek, let his thumb brush over Danny’s lips. 

“We should go somewhere a little more private.”

Danny groaned and let his head fall forward onto Dylan’s shoulder, which he could feel shaking with silent laughter. 

“Yes, I know,” he sighed, then raised his voice to add, “I hate you guys.”

“We love you too, Daniel,” Merritt’s voice yelled back, while Lula giggled excitedly in the background.

Danny jumped to his feet, and with a quick tug of Dylan’s hand, they made their way home.

**Epilogue**

_London, May 2016_

Five weeks after they’d left, The Horsemen were back in London, in their too small house, living on top of each other instead of scattered across a city. Daniel would never admit it, but he was happier than he’d ever been in his life. 

Tonight, following a productive day of planning for their next show and a good meal in their favorite Italian restaurant, they settled down to watch a movie together. Jack and Lula curled up together in one armchair and Merritt in the other. Danny lay on the couch with his head in Dylan’s lap and his legs stretched over the armrest. 

None of them were actually watching the movie they’d chosen. Jack and Lula were whispering together between kisses and Merritt was texting someone, Henley most likely, on his phone. Danny was practicing his cardistry and pretending he didn’t know that Dylan was staring at him. 

“Hey, I have a question,” Dylan said to the room, bringing everyone’s attention to him instantly. “How did you pull it off? In New York. What happened?”

Daniel caught Merritt share a look with Jack. “Come on. Some of it was actually impressive.”

“Alright,” Jack said, smiling. “It started in—”

 

_London, January 2016_

Lula sat at a tiny table in a coffee shop, scribbling down ideas she’d had for a new trick. Jack sat to her left, reading the newspaper; Merritt was on her right, texting someone and chuckling occasionally. She set her pen down and picked up her cup to take a sip of her latte.

“Hey, we’re not really letting Atlas do this alone are we?” she asked.

“God no,” Merritt said, still tapping away on his phone.

“That would be a disaster,” Jack agreed, shooting Lula a smile that made her knees weak even when she was sitting. “We just can’t let him know we’re helping.”

“Good,” Lula said, smiling back at Jack for a long moment, before picking up her pen and going back to her notes.

 

_Marseille, March 2016_

“Should we really leave him like that?” Jack asked as he got onto the elevator with Merritt and Lula. “He’s pretty wasted already.”

“It’ll do him good to cut loose,” Merritt said. “He’s way too uptight about this Dylan thing.”

“We need to find a way to just get them to talk to each other,” Lula said. “How do you make emotionally stunted control freaks talk to each other?”

Jack closed his eyes and started to bang the back of his head against the wall of the elevator. “We are all so fucked up.”

Merritt pulled out his cell phone and fired off a text. “I know someone who will know the answer to that.”

“Who?”

“Henley.”

“You still talk to Henley?” Lula asked. “Regularly?”

“Of course,” Merritt said. “You can leave The Eye but The Eye never leaves you.”

“That’s really creepy.”

“That’s what I said,” Jack agreed. “We haven’t seen her, but we keep in touch. And we pretend not to for Danny’s sake. And we pretend we don’t know that Danny still talks to her.”

“She tells us when he’s angry with us,” Merritt said. 

“Which is all the time.”

“Why have you never told me this before?” Lula laughed. “This is awesome. I love Henley.”

Merritt’s phone chimed with a reply to his text and he smiled as he read Henley’s message aloud to them. 

 

_New York, April 2016_

“Jesus Christ,” Merritt exclaimed, wincing as Dylan was thrown up against the wall. “Jack, you were supposed to have him roughed up a bit, not beaten to a pulp.”

“Hey, Big Mike is a professional,” Jack said. “He has to make it look realistic. He promised he wouldn’t break any bones or do any permanent damage.”

Dylan ducked out of the way of one of Big Mike’s huge fists, but wasn’t fast enough to miss the follow up.

“Oof,” Lula grabbed Jack’s arm and turned away. “Tell me when it’s over.”

“You had better hope this works,” Merritt said. “Because if it doesn’t Dylan is going to kill you.”

“It’ll work,” Jack assured him. “Besides, this was your idea.”

“One good punch to the jaw was what I said,” Merritt argued. “He’s not going to be able to do any smooching if his face is all swollen up.”

“Good point,” Jack said. “Lula the drums.”

Lula hurried around behind the drum-kit as Jack played one chord, which reverberated around the room and stopped Big Mike in his tracks. Dylan, thankfully, took the opportunity to slip away. 

 

_"Maybe you should just leave.”_

"That wasn't how it supposed to go," Lula pointed out, though everyone on the car knew that already.

"Oh, Danny, Danny,” Henley sighed, "what are we going to do with you?”

They saw Dylan leave the building and slouched down in their seats so as not to be noticed.

''Why did we think they'd behave like normal people?" Jack asked. "They're the least normal people I've ever met.”

“Okay,” Merritt said, “it's grand gesture time. We're out of options.”

"I don't see how that will work either, unless you plan on spelling it out to them," Henley said.

"Sky-writing?" Lula suggested.

“l was thinking more along the lines of carousel.”

 

_London, May 2016_

“Ta da!” Lula threw her arms out to the sides, beaming, as they finished the story.

Dylan was nodding slowly. He caught Danny’s eyes and they had a brief, silent conversation. 

“So,” Danny said, looking at each of the others in turn, and then back at his cards, “you did nothing.”

“Are you kidding, man?” Merritt exclaimed. “We set you up.”

“We sent the cards,” Jack argued. “We got you talking.”

“You had me beaten up,” Dylan pointed out. 

“And made us fight,” Danny added. “A lot.”

“Oh, whatever,” Merritt laughed. “You both know you wouldn’t have ever worked things out if it hadn’t been for us pushing you in the right direction.”

“I think we would have been just fine,” Danny said with a smirk. “But sure. You take the credit if you need it.”

“Thank you,” Lula said. “We will.”

“There’s just one more thing I want to know,” Dylan said, as they all started talking over each other. “How did you get the cards in my window?”


End file.
